


Against All Odds

by WhenInDoubtSleep



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:02:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22300774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenInDoubtSleep/pseuds/WhenInDoubtSleep
Summary: Buck Barnes has a head full of holes, he thinks. With each passing day, he remembers more of his past. The one thing that's always vivid is Steve Rogers. Against all odds, the two men have found each other again.A fill for my 2020 Star-Spangled Bingo
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 95
Collections: Star Spangled Bingo 2020





	Against All Odds

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for Star-Spangled Bingo 2020
> 
> G2 Against the Odds

Bucky Barnes has a head full of holes, he thinks. With each passing day, he remembers more of his past. He sees a young redhead laughing, and he remembers spinning Dot around in circles on the dancefloor. He sees someone drinking a coke, and he remembers Steve’s lips wrapped around the neck of a glass bottle. He sees a Brooklyn sunset and remembers sweating through his undershirt while he and Steve lay under Sarah’s quilt on their bed, smiling at each other and trading languid kisses. 

And through all of his confusion, his brokenness, his anger, the only thing he really knows is that everything important started or ended with Steve Rogers’ smile. 

They’re sitting in their apartment, and Bucky is splayed out on their large leather couch, a science fiction novel resting on his chest. Steve smiles over at him from his recliner. 

“You’re awfully far over there, Rogers,” he says, feigning casualty. Steve raises his eyebrows, looking up from his boring self-help book. 

“Well, there’s not much room for me on that couch, Buck. Not sure if you noticed, but you’re pretty fucking big,” Steve counters. 

Bucky frowns, pulling his legs up.

“I can always make space for you, pal,” his words are barely more than a whisper, and he remembers. 

_ “Buck, C’mon. We can’t share a place. We’ll be on top of each other all the time. There won’t be enough room for two beds, and you’ll get tired of seeing me every day,” Steve argued.  _

_ They’ve had this argument fifteen times by now, and Bucky rolls his eyes, knocking their shoulders together.  _

_ “You say that like it’s a bad thing. We always shared a bed as a kid. And I don’t think anything in this damn world could make me tired of your ugly mug,” he counters, reaching up to ruffle Steve’s honey-colored hair.  _

_ “I’ll be in your space, Buck. At least at home, you have your own room.” _

_ “I can always make space for you, pal.” _

Steve’s staring at him with an unreadable expression, and Bucky isn’t sure what it means. The only light in the room comes from the television. Some national geographic program that Steve likes is on, and Bucky swallows thickly.

“Well, c’mon. We aren’t getting any younger,” Bucky chides, and Steve rolls his eyes, standing up and marching over to the couch, plopping down gracelessly. 

Bucky stretches back out, tucking his feet under Steve’s left thigh. He hears the younger man’s breath hitch, and he smiles softly, wiggling his toes. 

“See. Plenty of space for the both of us,” he practically whispers, and Steve nods, opening his book once again. 

Bucky stares at him for a while, watching the rise and fall of his expansive chest. He remembers watching Steve breathe while he slept on their bed, the light wheezing sound that had come to mean home spilling from his pink lips. It isn’t like that now, not really. 

“What are you thinking about?” Steve asks, not looking up from the page. Bucky smiles softly, shrugging. 

“I was thinking about how you used to breathe,” he says, nodding once. Steve stills, glancing to his left for a millisecond. He hadn’t been expecting that answer. 

“What about my breathing, Buck?” 

Bucky chuckles, folding the corner of the page in his book, dropping it to the floor, letting the sound echo through their apartment before speaking. 

“I used to stay up late listening to you breathe, especially when you were sick. I would watch your chest move and listen. I could always hear it, then. It was the asthma maybe? It made a soft sound. When I shipped out, I couldn’t sleep because I was so used to falling asleep to the sound of you,” Bucky says, and Steve places his bookmark in the novel, setting it aside gently. 

“I didn’t know you remembered that,” Steve says quietly, and Bucky laughs, scooting an inch closer to the blonde man. 

“I remember a lot of things,” Bucky whispers, and Steve sucks in a shuddering breath, looking anywhere but Bucky’s face, “I remember when we were 17. It was the first time I kissed you. You had a split lip and a beautiful shiner sprouting up under your eye,” Bucky recounts, smiling fondly, “You looked so beautiful, so full of life. I always admired you, so stupid. I always wanted to be more like you. I cared too much. I always cared too much,” Bucky says, his smile slipping away. 

“I hit you,” Steve whispers back, avoiding eye contact. 

“You swatted my shoulder, that isn’t the same thing,” he argues, “You said ‘Buck, you better not be doing that unless you plan on this changing. I ain’t one of your dames,” 

“No. I said, ‘You’re an asshole, Bucky Barnes. And you better plan on keeping me if you’re gonna go around doing shit like that,” Steve argues, and Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. 

“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” Bucky says. 

Steve’s left hand moves to rest on Bucky’s right ankle, tracing small circles on the skin that lays there. 

“You said to me, “Shut up, punk. I’ve loved you since-”

“The day I met you. Guess I love bloody idiots who’ll stain my best shirts,” Bucky finishes, and Steve finally looks over at him, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“I didn’t know how much you remembered me… us. I didn’t know if you’d remember all of those little things,” Steve admits, squeezing Bucky’s ankle three times. 

Bucky is quiet for a minute, trying to figure out how to word what he wants to say. He sighs then, shaking his head. 

“I remember… most things, I think. Some things are still fuzzy. Some things are a little jumbled up, but it’s mostly there. I remember you brighter than I remember anything else. I remember you so much more clearly than I remember being... _ that _ ,” he spits the word resentfully, “I remembered you after we fought the first time,” he says, “They had to wipe me first because I kept asking about you,” he admits. 

Steve stares at him, eyes filling with tears, he wipes them away hastily, shaking his head. 

“I was heartbroken all over again. The only thing worse than watching the love of your life die is when you get him back, and he doesn’t… God, I was insufferable. Sam kept telling me that you probably weren’t worth saving, and I couldn’t deal with that. I told him no. I told him I’d go to the ends of the earth for you. I told him… if the option had been stopping you or letting you kill me…” 

“I would have thought the same thing he did. Crazy like me? Sometimes it’s better to put the vicious animal down,” Bucky says simply, and Steve’s expression morphs immediately, his eyes darkening. 

“Never. I meant it when I dropped the damn shield, Buck. If that had been the end of the line, I was gonna die in your damn arms one way or another,” Steve bites back, voice tense. 

Bucky moves so that he’s close to Steve, reaching over to trace his cheekbone, shaking his head. 

“I know. I always admired that,” Bucky reminds him, “so full of your bullshit convictions. I was always trying too hard. Still am, I think,” he shrugs, dropping is hand. Steve catches it. 

“So, if you remember us… does that mean… I mean, I get it if you-”

“If you try to tell me it’s okay if I want to spend my life with someone who isn’t you, I’ll grab the knife I keep under this couch cushion and I’ll turn your liver into tartar,” Bucky threatens, eyes narrowed.

“Well, I just mean-”

“No. Fuck that. After everything we’ve been through, there is no one, and I mean  _ no one _ that I could come home to that would love me like you do. You were so kind and respectful, not pushing me. God, I could never love anyone the way I’ve loved you. Always. You and your stupid bruises and reckless convictions and angry rants. You in every iteration. In every way. It’s you, Steve. And if you don’t know that, you’re even more of an idiot than I thought.”

Steve is quiet for a long minute, staring at Bucky with wide eyes. 

“Is it alright if I kiss you?” Steve asks. 

And then Bucky is on his lap, cradling Steve’s face in his hands, the metal glinting in the television light. He presses their lips together firmly. It’s chaste. Steve feels like he hasn’t breathed in 73 years. His body liquifies, tension seeping out of his muscles. He holds on to Bucky with desperate fingers. 

“We’re here, Stevie. Against all the odds. We’re here in Brooklyn in the twenty-first century where no one gives a shit if we get married or if we hold hands. We’ve been through hell and back to get here. We’re a goddamn miracle,” Bucky points out, and Steve just laughs, his cheeks wet. 

“God, I love you so much,” Steve whispers reverently. 

“I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments keep me going
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here: AllTheStupid](https://allthestupid.tumblr.com/)


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